Moos Effect: Udder Annihilation
by Palaven Blues
Summary: Shepard had ended the Reaper conflict, but the hanar are agitated about some new threat. Meanwhile, in our own time, Abril Walker is about to discover the shocking truth behind the alien cattle mutilations. CRACK AU. Blame this one on Afterlife, folks, I had nothing to do with it.


Special thanks to KingN7, Militem infaelx, and Tenyume Kasumi (whose talented hand is responsible for the cover for this). You can blame them, and the regular Afterlife crew, for this … "story" I am now writing.

* * *

_"We thought the Reapers were the greatest threat we'd ever face. We were wrong."_

_ —__Commander Shepard, Spectre_

"_Just what in th'hell is goin' on up here, anyway?"_

—_Abril Walker_

* * *

Earth, December 2013

Just outside Alice, Texas

Stars twinkled overhead as Abril walked home along the dusty road, periodically shouting a "Rrrrrr-a-ha!" at the sky. The cold air bit at her bare arms and legs, but she hardly felt it for the gallons of tequila currently running through her system in place of blood. She always drank on Tejano nights at the club. It was practically the law. Oh, but her head had already started to thump; it would be _killing_ her come morning. Maybe Dell would get up nice and early to tend the cows; Abril sure as hell wasn't going to feel like doing it.

Orange light flooded the sky, and she wondered briefly if it was sunrise already. But no, her watch claimed half-past three. The orange light faded, the afterglow burning into her eyes and temporarily obliterating the stars. A faint sound like a distant engine floated toward her. It sounded like it was coming from her own fields. Lights and engines on the ranch in the middle of the night ….

"Oh, you fuckers," she growled. Beaten-down boots slapped against the pavement as she sprinted the rest of the way, her skirt hiking up to mid-thigh. Dirty sons of filthy whores, harassin' her damn cattle. She panted harshly, her breath pluming out in visible clouds as she wished she'd brought her rifle out with her. Someone was going to pay, that was for damn sure. She left the road, still running, hoping to scare off the intruders before they got away with any of her stock. She nearly fell on the ice-slick grass as she rounded the barn, and made a quick decision to grab a pitchfork before continuing on. The barn stood empty as she reached in and grabbed her impromptu weapon, all the animals out to pasture. Hadn't Dell brought them in? She gave an experimental swing to get used to the weight of the pitchfork, loving how the sharp tines shone a little in the thin moonlight. A shame she didn't let her tools rust; she'd love to give the bastards tetanus instead of just poking them and sending them on their way.

She didn't see any more lights, but she could hear some kind of commotion in the east field. She ran crouched over, trying to make sure the damn rustlers didn't see her until it was too late. She was gonna make them pay. Ain't nobody could steal from Abril Walker. Still a few yards away, she could hear the thieves talkin' to themselves. They had no idea she was there.

"_This one thinks we have found the wrong kind of colony. These are not the same creatures."_

"_This one politely begs to differ. This is the only safe way to learn of our ancient enemies' weaknesses."_

Abril blinked. _What in the hell? _She crept forward, pitchfork clutched in a death-grip, trying to figure out who the hell was in her field, harassing her cattle, and why they talked so _weird._ She tripped, falling forward while trying not to yell out. She flattened against the ground, its scrim of ice scraping through her thin clothes and making her shiver. _Should have worn a jacket, _Abril thought, as she looked back to see what had fouled up her footwork.

"No, no," murmured. The leg of one of her Devons lay sprawled at an awkward angle, and she traced its lines back to its body.

Gaping, empty eye sockets stared back at her. They'd removed her tongue, her eyes, her ears. A few splatters of blood lay on the frozen grass, drops of red bringing a bit of color to the ice-sculpted world, but the animal looked sunken, drained. They'd taken all the blood, all the delicate organs, and if she looked, she was sure she'd find strange markings on the poor animal's corpse. Abril scrambled away and puked into the grass as quietly as she could.

_Not again. I thought they stopped this mutilation shit years ago._ She rose on unsteady legs, moving toward the hushed conversation and—she was sure—the perpetrators, gathered around another corpse of one of her animals, tortured to death on her own damn land. _These sick fuckers shoulda picked a different ranch._

"Lissen here, you sons'a bitches!" she shouted, leaping to her feet and brandishing her pitchfork. That was as far as she got. The … _creatures,_ whatever they were, brought the lights up again, and in the murky orange, Abril could see them. They looked like jellyfish, six or seven big pink blobby things standing on long tentacles, as tall as she was.

"This one offers its most humble apologies." One was lightin' up, right in front of her, like it was a part of the show at the planetarium. The sound seemed to be coming from him, in conjunction with the lights. Her?

_It,_ Abril decided.

"But in no instance," it continued, "can the ancient evil be allowed to have its way." It held up what looked like some futuristic space-gun.

The end of the muzzle flared.

Pain hit Abril's chest.

Then darkness.

* * *

Earth, 2187

The ruins of London

"I don't care what the damn jellies want, I'm fucking busy here!" Shepard shouted, slamming the button to end the vidcall. She rubbed at her temples. Fucking ridiculous. Destroy all the Reapers, wipe out the collectors, pull the galaxy from the brink of destruction, make peace between turian and krogan, geth and quarian, so what now? The hanar making pranks calls, while pretending to be deadly serious. She didn't have time for this shit. She leaned back in her chair, wanting nothing more than to cry. Or maybe to go back to Eden Prime and trade with Nihlus. There's a damn idea. Skip the whole idiotic thing. Who wants to be the Shepard, anyway?

Garrus popped his head around the doorjamb, the effect somewhat ruined since she could she him approach through the crumbled walls. "You have time for a quick break?" he asked. He gestured with one oversized, steaming mug.

"That better not be tea, again." Shepard glowered. She didn't care if they were technically in England, she could not stand tea.

"It's hot chocolate, love. Don't worry, after you threw the third mug straight at my face, you articulated the problem, so I've learned." His mandibles fluttered in embarrassment as he squirmed a little.

Shepard felt a sinking sensation in her chest. "Have I really been throwing things?" she asked with dismay.

Garrus did his best approximation of a human shrug. "Don't worry about it. Chakwas says it'll take a few more days to un-fry your implants and such." He handed over the hot chocolate, his green-lit eyes watching while she gulped greedily at it.

Her stomach screamed once in protest, cramping against the drink. "Oh, shit … have I eaten?"

"Today? No. This week? Again, no. Are you ready to leave your desk for a minute?"

Shepard stretched, with what seemed to be every bone and muscle creaking its objection to the plan. "Yeah, I suppose I'd better." One arm flailed briefly, but Garrus was right there to grab it and help pull her to her feet.

"You defeated the reapers, love. Time to relax a little." Soothing dual-tones tried to trick her into rest, but Shepard fought against his voice. They stepped outside, to see reapers glowing with green light gradually putting things back to rights. She still wasn't sure it had been the right decision, but the other options had seemed even less tenable.

"No. No rest. Not until everything is up to snuff again." _Not until I'm sure I made the right call,_ she added. She was prepared to spend the rest of her life in constant vigilance, to make sure the reapers didn't slip up. She looked out over the rubble, smoke still rising in some areas, refugees and wounded soldiers still making their way back to people, if not civilization. Her jaw tensed, her teeth grinding until Garrus laid one gentle talon against her cheek. She nodded to him, then returned her gaze to the incredible destruction the war and her choices had left behind. She would do this. Somehow, she would make it work.

"Shepard." Garrus's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back to lean against his keel. "You don't have to do this all alone."

"Yes. I do."

Garrus sighed as she pulled away from him. Shepard ignored him. She had spent her whole career fixing things. Now that she'd changed the very genetic makeup of every person, synthetic or organic, in the galaxy, she had an even greater responsibility to make things better. Reapers sailed overhead. Husks and brutes mingled with asari and krogan on the ground.

She had never before carried so great a load.


End file.
